


Pearl Eats Rose Out

by obstreperose



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Girl Penis, Oral Sex, Rimming, Scent Kink, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:44:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstreperose/pseuds/obstreperose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Pearl eats some things, one of them being "Rose out". Shippy, smutty, and a little bit low-key sad!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pearl Eats Rose Out

Pearl stilled her breathing: most often consistent and wide-spaced, it had started to rise to a disconcerting crescendo. Her body being as it was, she really only needed to breathe perhaps once or twice in each sixty seconds, and the breaths could be shallow, organised, quiet enough to concern no-one. At this point - with Rose’s warmth against her, her weight against her - this usuality had gone to pieces. Fingers, large and soft and flexing with an intent that was very clear of nature, roved against the shallow delta of her inner thigh through form-fitting shorts. Pearl’s breathing matched perhaps to the patterns of those fingers - easing in, tapping away, and Rose’s soft breath, fulsome, warm as her chest was, deep-drawn and savouring.

They were atop the stony outcrops of a gem observatory, its outer limits wreathed in clouds, left on Earth to watch the neighbouring stars - a sort of ziggurat, a look-out tower, though its foundations were not built on piled stone but on uplifting magic. The central pavilion resolved into a tower itself: here, on the ramparts of that tower, and kissed by the sky, Rose had laid out a blanket and encouraged Pearl to try a few savouries.

This was a new passion of hers: human food, which at first she had found unusual and then in almost no time at all had begun to sample with visible delectation. Pearl had at first thought it a little forced (Rose rarely manufactured emotion, so why?), but as the weeks had worn on and it had proven not to be a cast-aside fancy, she’d been forced to admit that there might in fact be a little sense in it - if only by soft cajoling. The insinuation had been made that she, Pearl, was slightly chafed at Rose enjoying something Pearl did not understand enough to prepare, manage and provide for her. It had been made very gently. Still, this had been enough to provoke the slimmer gem into sampling pastries.

This was fluted, unfrosted, soft buttery pastry that melted in the mouth: it reminded Pearl of crumbling lace and she chewed and swallowed stoically at the pace of a sparrow. Here now was a soft, doughy bun that she thought privately was quite like breaking up fibrous things with your teeth, as if you were chopping apart rope with a knife. She felt it sink into her stomach with grim resolution. She had tried one of each: thankfully, there had been a pot of lemon tea brewing neatly on the side, and she had turned out to enjoy that, so the outing had not been a total embarrassment.

“Poor Pearl,” Rose had said sympathetically, a devilish look lifting her lips.

“I don’t think so,” said Pearl. Around Rose she was at turns shy and brightly vivacious: Rose loved to capture that side of her, draw it out, by little schemes and times-spent-together like this one. “I’ve had several new experiences. And I quite enjoyed the tea.” She pressed her lips together, feeling them lift up in a more innocent mirror of Rose’s adoring smile.

“You’d like it if I made more for you?” said Rose, her fingers playing on the back of Pearl’s hand. They were warm: so warm, in fact, that it almost beggared belief. Pearl herself only reached a temperature above calm marble when she was particularly excited - for one reason or another.

She nodded, rounded chin dipping slightly. “And perhaps I could learn to make it. It’s…something to do with torn leaves, I think?”

“That’s right!” Rose beamed - then laughed slightly, her chin sinking against her neck, eyes sparkling. “You mix the leaves with water, and you heat them.” Her eyebrows lifted, a delicate, fringing pink, but rather deep, wide. “It’s supposed to have a _stimulating_ effect.”

“Well, I suppose if I concentrate I might feel a little - oh!”

And that was when Rose’s hand dipped lower, and Pearl’s breathing went to seed. Her pale cheeks flushed their seafoam blue-green - Rose, so large, leaning against her, her breasts joggling softly beneath the confines of her diaphanous dress, Rose who could clutch Pearl’s whole thigh in the palm of her hand if she wanted, but for now was only caressing it, letting her finger-pads press deeper. The day was warm, and under Pearl’s clothes a slight sweat had begun, but now she was in Rose’s shade, all but her head, and the light gleamed beautifully off her gem before that too was esconced in the warmth of her other half.

“Oh,” she panted, and primed her thighs, spreading them accommodatingly for Rose Quartz’s touch - where she knew Rose liked to touch. Her sex, plump and stiff, blossoming now with heat against the crotch of her close-knit shorts, an outlined bulge - but Rose did not touch there yet. Not yet.

Instead her lips fell down to meet Pearl’s, so infinitely full and lavish in contrast to her own thin softness, and their kiss was wet and sloppy and Pearl didn’t care at all, wanted more of it, even opening her mouth invitingly for Rose’s strong, slick tongue to roll down and press over hers, their mouths working together, Rose’s breathing steadying Pearl’s out to a pace, still fast, but steady and excited and co-operative. She could taste Rose’s saliva and the pulse of her body thumped more firmly in concord. Why did this gem drive her so wild? She didn’t question it, couldn’t. It was an act of divine provenance. She’d never been so happy - never thought she could be as happy as this.

Her hand rose up to Rose’s waist, flexing to the fabric of her dress, making it ruffle with a physical expression of Pearl’s deep affection. A chivalrous, knightly gesture. In return Rose’s hands lifted to roll up her top, fingers teasing under the fabric and pressing to the heat-excited skin of her tummy, her line-flat hips. The flirtatious transparent shawl that adorned her shoulders flicked off last, and then Pearl’s bare, slim body was nearly naked against the open sky.

Her nipples were like the memories of kisses, pert and tiny, standing out against the shallow plane of her body, her breasts near-fancifully small. Rose’s hand cupped against one from the palm, her fingers near reaching the other, as her other hand rose through Pearl’s hair and ruffled it, making her lover lean against her and emit a soft vocal trill that was as much reflex as anything and which Pearl had made in no other context, which was followed by a gasp, flushed cheeks, and a little smile and then a laugh from Pearl and then a laugh from Rose. Her fingers still gyrated gently against one stiffening nipple: Pearl flexed her back, sighing softly as she eased into the pressure.

“Very beautiful,” said Rose, as if she was judging a painting, though a painting for which she had infinite love. Pearl made a murmured noise of agreement, husky and sweet in her throat: about the moment, the whole situation.

Rose’s dress seemed to slink off, shoulders first, as if it was helping her with its movements - and then that transcendentally beautiful body was before her, and Pearl felt her cock softly flexing against the cottony grip of her shorts, tensing, a tiny warmth of arousal-provoked fluid slipping against the fabric past the clutch of her foreskin. She shivered and gasped and Rose knew, laughed, kissed her cheek.

Rose’s breasts were soft and full, wide-facing, resting upon her rolled belly, bountiful and warm and Pearl’s mouth was already leaning in, kissing her there where the cloy of her dress had made a soft musky heat against her skin, in soft reverences, as if by pressing warm lips to her she could convey in the full merit of its totality her love for Rose and every fabric of her. Rose let out a soft little breath of pleasure and Pearl’s inner self trilled in a mirroring vibration of love. One hand steadied on a thick thigh, tracking down its outer side, and then Pearl - sitting - was lowering her mouth with a gentle breath inwards against the swollen mound of her lover’s sex. She fit perfectly into this position, their different heights. It was as if she’d been made for her.

Her tongue lapped out and laved directly over the centre of Rose’s vulva, teasing up against the inch-long clit that sat half-hooded after she’d left a warm trail of her mouth’s attention against Rose’s entrance, at the moment still mostly cloyed by her inner lips. Against the bottom of that fat, full nub of concentrated nerve endings, she tapped her tongue in a supple movement, then lifted it up, dragged it over. Rose liked a lot of stimulation: a growly groan rose from her throat as her fingers dug in Pearl’s hair, her thighs easing forward, hips encouraging the press.

But Pearl knew better than to press too much, there, all at once. Instead her mouth lowered and in a sideways kiss she took part of the larger gem’s plump labia into her mouth, outer lips dappled with ticklish hair, tongue working on the gentle curl where outer became inner, teasing their separation as she sucked at Rose’s pussy with lavish devotion. Mouth eased away: then tongue back down the middle, rolling up, and back to that clit again, the whole heat of her mouth encasing it this time, and a smart little breath huffing in through Pearl’s nose as her tongue rolled a slick-strong spiral, wet with hot saliva, over Rose’s button until the hood was rolled back fully and every inch of the gasping sensation expressed through Rose’s thighs was being caused by the relentless, attuned attention of her lover. The tip of it between her lips now, pursed and close, and her tongue turning in a lewd press so close over the part of that peaking swell that extended into her mouth that Rose whimpered fulsomely and her soft, heavy knees pressed together, bare feet turning inwards on the ground.

Pearl eased away from Rose’s sex gasping, her lips glisteningly bright with the larger gem’s fluid. Their eyes met: wordless phrases seemed to pass there, a _did I - ?_  and _you did well_ , and then Rose’s voice as she leaned in close, “my lovely little Pearl,” seeming to pick up so naturally from the usual sympathy that passed between them that it was as if they’d really spoken in the seconds before. She kissed her again and eased off her shorts with sure, close hands.

Between her fingers Pearl’s sex sprang up, short and stiff and plump at the base, nestled in soft, pale hair. Rose’s fingertips stroked caressingly over it, the corner of her thumb edging over her ballsack, pressing up at the soft, sensitive ovoid weight there, then kneading it, wrist-movement, with the heel of her hand. She knew how to do this very well: years with Pearl had taught her every sure spot, every certain way to coax a half-shameful little moan of wriggling pleasure from out of her slender lover, and she took great delectation in applying this knowledge. Her finger now aligned to the base of Pearl’s achingly stiff cock, mapping up against the underside of the shaft, and pressed back, teasing her so that her cockhead, half-exposed between the neat weight of her foreskin, flexed back against her belly and left a glimmering mark of musky fluid there. She leaned closer, and took in Pearl’s smell.

Closeness, and a little time between romps: that was all it took for Pearl’s sex to gather up that gorgeous, body-firm scent, and Rose sighed as she took it in, her hand carelessly taking Pearl’s shaft and squeezing and rolling down her foreskin so that the soft edges of her crown were available to the tongue, which roved there next - soft, wet, panging, ever so hot. Pearl’s sense were alight. Rose could taste salt and the precome that had dribbled and gathered here in the course of the past half hour, perhaps only while they’d been talking. The slender gem had difficulty controlling her arousal even being in Rose’s presence, at times: Rose, of course, found this to be a delightful compliment, even as any talk of it drove Pearl into a squirming blush, flustered and happy.

Her tongue now rolled over the divot of Pearl’s slit, part in her crown, and there the salt-sweet taste of her arousal was even tarter, and Rose’s nostrils flared, amply eager. She swallowed back that clinging warmth with a hunger that Pearl saw - looking down, felt those full lips working over her, Rose’s soft ringlets laying with gravity over her thighs - and nearly tensed in nearness to her orgasm in response. Her fingers found their place in Rose’s hair, tentative, worshipful, and she lifted her hips, lower back gently arching, working herself up against Rose’s lips, asking admittance, not just tongue but mouth, lips. The blue-greenish swell of her fluid-glistening glans jutted against that lipstick pout. Another human affectation. Pearl found she didn’t mind it, a thought flitting shyishly over her mind, and then Rose took her inside, and the flat of her broad, flexing-soft tongue was spreading from root to tip and pressing up in quick dominating licks against her as those lush lips formed a seal, hot and embracing, that served to make each movement of her tongue a deeper incitement against every one of Pearl’s hyper-sensitive nerves.

This. Oh, this. What else could there be but it? But Rose, and their closeness, and their bodies, and -

Rose’s hand cupped up under her buttocks, and Pearl mewled comfortably, soft breathing becoing ragged with how near she was. With a soft lap, Rose’s tongue dragged up - over the curved crown of Pearl’s aching, twitching sex, so near orgasm it was unreal - and then the soft kissing-wet seal of her lips passed over it too, and Pearl was left bare and gasping, twitching, in the warmth of the day, her eyelids fluttering with shocked sudden withdrawal.

“Rose - oh, Rose - “

“Shh.” A coy smile on those full lips. They were wet with sex: Rose’s breasts heavy, their nipples snow-puff peaks, as she leaned in a goddess over Pearl’s body, like an image in a dream, and Pearl so lucky to have it nearly every day. “Turn over.”

Her blue eyes widened. “Oh - but - “ Colour in her cheeks. An area sometimes surfeited with desire, but not talked about. Pearl was shy: in some ways, prudish, too.

She did turn over, though, arching her slender athlete’s body, palms on the fabric of the throw, knees there too, and the inward curves of her slender thighs leading up to the almost uncurved tenderness of her rear. Rose parted her cheeks with two well-aligned fingers: rubbed their pads against the soft pucker of her asshole, where Pearl was whimperingly sensitive, and which caused her to lean forward on her palms, nearly collapsing on her chin against the sun-warmed stone. “Oh - o-oh - !”

“Wait until I start licking you,” said Rose, her voice lavish and soft and impish, and a soft laugh, and Pearl had to stop herself from twitching in premature orgasm just at the feeling of that queenly presence behind her, her hips aligned to hers, as if she might be about to mount her (which they sometimes did) - but not today.

Instead Rose leaned delicately down. She re-adjusted her weight, fingers still moving in gentle sallies and lifts, presses, over the muscular tense of Pearl’s tiny, rarely-touched pucker. Then her tongue rolled in - a soft sigh as she settled herself to the task - and one thick, broad-tongued lave made its way directly over Pearl there, across the centre of herself, and she could feel Rose’s lower lips jut into her in passing, and her thighs quivered and tensed, and her sex - standing stiff between her spread legs, parallel to the ground - dribbled a hot strand of fluid. Rose’s fingers were helping her tongue, the lubrication of saliva easing Pearl open, fingers working and pressing in, delicately, not far, just a tiny partiality of an inch, but enough to feel like the world stretching her, make her hips shiver and buck in animal reciprocation.

“Oh - oh,” she panted, “oh Rose…”

Her orgasm was swift and sticky and Rose gathered it against her palm, smeared it back in loving celebration of Pearl’s body against her lover’s belly, the shaft of her still-twitching cock. Drooling arcs of tensing, tender fluid - an electric feeling - passing through her, and her lover’s tongue, still laveing, in soft firm thickly upwards strokes, and the combined dirtiness of it and the bliss of it, the not caring about the dirtiness, so long as it was Rose who did it, so long as Rose was here, what pleasure could be wrong?

And so her thoughts tripped on - for a few chaotic lovely moments, up to a minute - until she finally rolled over on her back with a soft pant and found Rose pressing into her, her weight eclipsing Pearl’s, but her thighs and knees gently supporting her so that it wasn’t uncomfortable to lie like that, her atop her.

“You need to finish me,” she told her, eyes flashing with lavish, as-yet-untapped pleasure, and her fingers tickled and danced over the buds of Pearl’s breasts with a restraintless lover’s bliss.

“I will,” she said, making any promise and genuinely wanting to, “I will, oh my loved one, I will - “

And Rose laughed softly and cut her off at the lips, with a pressing kiss, and they laid like that for a while, looking upon each other with a wonder that passed and changed in slow sallies. Rose’s hand supported Pearl’s back: the strength of her soft, full body made the embrace a kind of vertical spooning. She kissed her neck and the tops of her breasts, and told her loving things. And then, when Pearl had rested, she filled her promise - all then with gentle, trembling enthusiasm and a skill she’d learned in the midst of embraces just like that one, only, ever, forever, like that one.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this very smutty story! If you did, you can find more of my writing at obstreperose.tumblr.com. I take requests of all kinds, and would love to hear all your no doubt wonderful prompts!


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